Du Riechst So Gut
by HellzLittleAngel
Summary: The boy in the vines ignores him. He reaches down, picking up one of the vines and holds it in his grasp. It wiggles, trying to break free, successfully breaking the skin of his palm. "Are you afraid?" He breathes, unnatural laughter chiming afterwords.


Du Riechst So Gut

_AkuRoku_

Purple vines tangle themselves over his ankles. But no, not a few. Swarms of them. An ocean, almost. The thorns on the vines dig into his flesh, tearing and ripping as they move. The sound of skin being pulled apart is almost the equivalent to the sound of a zipper, fast and relentless. The purple is painted with red, glistening with no light. They continue to slide up his legs, drawing out ragged lines, only seeming to stop at his knees. And all the while, he stands limp, not seeming to even notice the damage being done. His head is bowed; ruffled, blonde hair almost too perfect and clean shine like the sun. It's unfitting to the rest of his body. Upon his arms are deep slashes, self-inflicted cuts spelling out words. _You belong – to me. _

"Little boy?" The man calls, worry laced in his tone. He stands not far from the scene, standing on a boulder to save himself from being cut up. "Little boy, come here."

The boy in the vines ignores him. He reaches down, picking up one of the vines and holds it in his grasp. It wiggles, trying to break free, successfully breaking the skin of his palm. _"Are you afraid?" _He breathes, unnatural laughter chiming afterwords.

"Little boy," The man says, a frown embedded into his features. Brushing a strand of red hair from his face, the man kneels down on the boulder, shifting as close as he can without falling over, "will you come here, please?" The sound of children screaming taking the background is his only response. It sounds too far away, but as the redheaded man peers over the land, he realizes the vines never seem to end. It's almost as if it covers the whole earth.

Much to the redhead's relief, the little boy takes a step. He winces though, seeing the kid step on sharp pricks, watching as blood sprays the nearby plants. Another step. And another. _How can he have so much blood? _It makes him feel weird, the kind of weird that crawls under his skin the more he watches. His eyes can't break away though. He's in a trance, looking with awe as the little boy travels through the sea of vines, his face still tucked away in the shadows, the words on his arms brightening the closer he gets.

"_Are you afraid?" _The boy whispers again, another shot of laughter coming after.

The man straightens up. He is afraid. More than he'd like to admit. The closer the little blonde comes, the more anxious he's becoming. He takes a few cautious steps back, terror filling his eyes as the boy climbs the boulder. The vines help him, lifting his blood-caked legs, tightening their painful grip as the kid takes a step towards the man. The redhead takes another step away, feeling his sanity draining so slow. What has he drawn to himself? This isn't human... It isn't human, no matter how male it looks.

A cry of agony trails off his lips as the purple vines wrap itself around his ankles. It cuts deep through the jeans he's wearing, brushing ever so teasingly against the marrow and bone. Clear liquid rushes down his cheeks, and as he tugs his own legs, the man finds no relief. It hurts. So bad. He barely registers the crystal clear laughter, only starting when lanky arms wrap around his hips. Gazing down, the redhead freezes, feeling the boy nuzzle his face against his throat. Cold breath lingers on his flesh. Those dirtied fingers grip his shirt, clenching into fists and holding the man closer. The vines at their ankles intertwine, reaching knee-level again.

The little boy smiles, _"Are you afraid?"_

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Axel rips the paper apart, tearing it into tiny pieces. Letting the wind take hand, he narrows his eyes, watching with satisfaction as the pieces of paper drift into a puddle and find the entrance to the sewers. He's not insane. He's not crazy. His therapist is the one that _isn't_ right in the head. He doesn't need some goddamn prescription that won't work half the time. There's no reason to take the medicine. Axel knows this, and he knows his doctor knows this as well. They just want to drug him up, keep him from reality.

Is he even in reality?

Axel frowns. What kind of question is that? Of course he's in reality. He's awake, isn't he? There aren't any creepy vines, or children screaming, or even that kid. He's not standing on a boulder, trying to talk some boy into walking to him. His therapist assumes the little boy is a symbol of pedophilia, and the doctor thinks the redhead is really this crazy, secret-keeping pedophile who enjoys luring little boys into his house for a good fuck every now and then.

But that's wrong.

He isn't a pedophile. Little kids have never done anything for him, and so far he isn't attracted to any blonde-haired ten year olds. He doesn't find himself walking around playgrounds, so that has to be a plus, right?

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Axel lowers his head and strolls down the sidewalk. His ex-best friend found out the assumptions, and now nobody will talk to him. No one will lend a hand to him, and especially the soccer mom's on the street keep their little girls and boys inside by six, and will only let their children run in the yard. It's pathetic, really, but the redhead can't control this anymore. He'll have to move out, find another state to contaminate and start a new life. Hell, he should even change his name for extra measures. Lea? Too girlish. Reno? He could _move _to Reno, Las Vegas, but there is no way he's going to be going by the name _Reno. _Just not his style.

Unlocking the front door to his house, Axel steps in and slams the door behind him. His parents are both buried six feet underground since three years ago, so the redhead found himself cleaning the place up and moving in. He regrets it now. The place has a grayish tone, loneliness and fear lurking in every nook and cranny of the house. There's no sign of life, and it still won't look like someone actually inhabits the place if the lights come on. Glaring at the emptiness, he jerks his jacket off and rolls it up into a ball, stepping into the living room. Letting the article of clothing bounce off to the floor, the redhead enters the bathroom and finally exhales the air he'd been holding in ever since he stepped in the house.

The shower he ends up taking scalds and burns his flesh, but Axel barely registers the pain. He can't keep his mind off those moving boxes stuffed in the garage. He's going to move, that's it. There isn't any damn reason to stay closed off in this small, close-minded town, and he's positive everyone will thank him as he drives on the highway and leaves the state. They'll burn his house, set afire any trace that he's ever lived here, and they'll go along with their lives happily, guilt-free.

Oh well.

Moving himself out from under the painful streams of water, the redhead turns off the shower nozzle and wraps a towel around himself. He's going to start packing tonight – hell, he'll be out of here by tonight. No use sleeping one more terrible night on haunting grounds. Trudging up to the sink, he discards the towel and dresses himself in the only two things he had sparing in the bathroom – boxers and jeans. Shifting his gaze up to the mirror, the redhead blinks. Huh, that's strange. There's a crack along the glass. Raising his hand, he picks at the small crack, successfully chipping out a sizable amount of sharp glass. He can see his own reflection in it.

_It's easy as one, two, three... _

The redhead scowls and throws the piece of glass in the small trash bin next to the sink. What sort of sick thought was _that? I'm not some suicidal faggot, _Axel thinks harshly, _so I need to stop acting like one. _He's twenty-two, for God's sake. He's yet to live; the chains in this town keep drugging him like a crackpot and continue to bury him underground. His mind's made up – he's moving to Reno, Las Vegas. He'll get a job as a bartender in one of the clubs, make some friends, get an apartment to throw all his shit in, and forget all about this no-named no-brained town; of course, not necessarily in that order.

Smiling bitterly, he can only hope it ends up like that.

A loud crash startles him out of his thoughts. Hand flying up to his chest, the redhead's eyes grow wide. What in the _hell _was that? It wasn't a small crash, like a dish falling. No, it had a _bang _to it. Is someone breaking in? This place is practically criminal-free – the most feared thing on the roads is Axel himself. To say he isn't afraid would be a complete lie – the redhead can feel his heart under his palm beat wildly against his chest. Despite this fact, he knows cowering in the bathroom is the most pathetic way to be robbed and killed. At least he can beat the shit out of who-knows-who just broke into his house before something bad happens.

Biting his lip, the redhead peeks the door open, just a crack, and peers into the darkened corridors. Why was he ignorant enough to ignore the lamps on his way to the restroom? Mentally kicking himself, Axel stares, his eyes reluctant to adjust to the darkness, and with his new-found, shitty vision, he is reluctant too to leave the safety of his bathroom. But things must be done.

Entering the hallway, the man casts one hand on the wall to lead himself without stumbling around. Oh... Shit. The kitchen light. It's... It's flickered on. He can't recall turning the kitchen light on before. Who in the hell is in his house, and _why _can't they be loud and obnoxious. Only then would he have some sort of advantage. Edging closer and closer, the redhead lifts his gaze farther into the kitchen, spotting nothing strange-

"Wh-What the fuck...?" Axel breathes, his eyes bulging out in fear. Above the kitchen sink is a small window, and it's not surprising to see the window is broken. What _is _making him want to retreat is something that can't possibly be there. It's not real. Purple vines surely don't exist, at least not in this part of the state. Purple vines shouldn't be moving, either, and they definitely shouldn't be intruding in his house, trying to squeeze through the tight space, practically breaking the windowsill with its strength.

He's dreaming. He has to be. He must have fallen asleep while standing in the shower – he has a habit of sleeping standing up – or perhaps he collapsed on the couch, imagining himself going into the bathroom to clean himself up. There isn't the damnedest reason in hell that there are purple vines _god __the thorns they have thorns! _are the reason for the crash.

He's hallucinating. If not sleeping, then he's hallucinating. So... He shouldn't be afraid. It's only a figment of his imagination. Still, he narrows his eyes, his body tensed as he watches the vines find success in breaking the plaster and wood of the wall, more than a few intruding in his kitchen. Near all of them pile up in the sink, some snaking down the pipes and slipping out of the cupboard below the sink. Disgusting. What does he do? Stand here and watch until the dangerous thorns find their way around his throat and prick him to death? Of course not. He has to get out. It doesn't matter if the police track him down, asking what happened in the house, and it sure as hell doesn't matter to him if he's leaving all of his belongings behind; he needs to leave. Now.

But not without a few things he knows he's going to need. The vines are slow and fat; he'll make it.

Axel backs away, double-checking to make sure the tentacle-like things don't follow him, and hurries with the softest steps into his room. Closing the door with much more care than he intended, the redhead allows himself a bit of light and turns the lamp on. Okay, he's in his room. All he needs to do is get a few little hand-me-downs his parents had given him and he'll be on his way. Surely he won't need a bag, but just in case...

Trudging to the closet, Axel opens the door, almost expecting to come face to face with some fucked-up creature. But no, he finds nothing but a few items he would've thrown out anyway, a couple of crumpled up pieces of paper, and an empty backpack from his earlier high school years. He can recall the backpack always being by his side all through the years, from the best to the worst. His mother had tried to persuade him to get another school bag, especially for college, but he would shake his head and say something along the lines of, "This thing's got _value, _Ma."

Smiling at the memories, the redhead takes it out and begins packing small necessities; underwear, clothes, and a few dusty books he's found rather boring. At least he'll find some entertainment in the stale pages.

The lamp dimmers, the light flickering off and on. Axel grows still, casting a wary glance towards the lamp, watching it with a small hope that it'll go back to normal. Much to his dismay, the light blub gives out a final cry of defeat before everything is enveloped by the darkness.

"Shit... Shit..." He whispers to himself, already getting worked up from the lack of light. _Relax, relax, _he tells himself, finding no comfort in the hollow words. Zipping up the bag, the redhead staggers without sight around his bed, his movements slow, as if moving fast will trigger a sudden death from something stupid and unbelievable, like an arrow piercing his skull or a bullet ripping through his chest. The feeling of unseen eyes following his figure creates a small sense of panic in his mind, but Axel forces himself to ignore it and stop acting so paranoid. The lights are off – so what? The vines aren't here yet; perhaps the whole street lost power. He's freaking out for no reason whatsoever.

Finding the entryway, the man almost throws the door open, if not for his ears picking up a rather peculiar sound. Soft scratching echoes from the other side. Eyebrows furrowing in complete puzzlement, the redhead pauses, listening to make sure he isn't making it up, then cautiously presses his ear against the thin wood. Something _is _scratching against the wood, kind of like a knife or a fingernail rubbing without aggression against the wood. What in the hell...?

_"Axel..."_ an strangely familiar voice whispers behind the door, _"Axel... Axel... Come out, come out, Axel..."_

"Who the fuck is there?" Said man shouts, a small voice in his mind chiding him, noting it wasn't the best idea to begin a hostile conversation with what could be a murderer on the other side with nothing put a thin piece of wood for protection. He can't help it, though – there's no need to play with him any longer; he's worked up as it is.

_"Axel, Axel... I'm waiting... Are you_ afraid, _Axel? ... Axel, Axel..."_ The voice breathes, a ring of laughter following right after.

Wait.

The redhead jumps back, his eyes frantic. No, no, no, he's not- there isn't- no, he's dreaming. He knows that damned voice very well, and God he wishes he didn't. A sense of animal fright works through his muscles, keeping him frozen like a statue. That... That _thing _from his nightmares is outside his bedroom door right now. He can lie to himself, repeatedly argue that the little boy from his dreams is _only _from his imagination, but until otherwise he can't play doctor and make up pathetic excuses like, _I must've met him before, _or _I'm hallucinating, he's not there, he's not there. _He is there.

That's when the knocking starts up.

It's soft and barely heard at first, and as Axel stares with no intention of answering, it grows louder and louder, to the point of banging and pounding. Terrified the door will give way, the redhead finds it in him to move his weak legs and stumble into the closet, slamming the door shut the very second the bedroom door busts down.

_I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here... _

_"Axel... Axel..."_ The little boy's voice cries out with joy,_ "I'm here, Axel... Come out, Axel..."_

Falling to a sitting position, the redhead fixes his eyes on the lighter shade of darkness under the door. Maybe if he stays silent, the boy will figure he escaped through the window or something close to that idea, and leave, taking his disgusting vines with him. Reassuring himself that it has to work, the redhead holds his breath, counting the silent seconds tick by. Ten, eleven, twelve... A shadow darkens underneath the door. Feet. Feet... He's there. He's standing right _behind the door. _Heart pounding out of control, Axel digs his fingernails into the floor, trying his hardest not to squeak. _Go away go away _please _go away! _

The doorknob twists, and as the door creaks open, he comes into view. He's the same as in the redhead's dreams. Short, angelic blond hair, blood-coated legs... But more real. In his dreams, this blondie almost seemed two-dimensional; something that would and could never exist. And yet now, as his worst and only nightmare stands before him, Axel _knows _he won't get out alive. He feels faint.

_"I found you,"_ the blond giggles, the faintest trace of a smile on his barely seen lips, _"It's okay, Axel. Come out..."_ The kid holds his hand out.

Axel stares with accusing eyes, not moving, not blinking, but noticing the bloodied words on his arm. The cuts still look fresh. _You belong _is torn into his flesh. That must mean the other arm... Gazing up, the man stares at the almost glowing hair, too clean and too beautiful for the owner. He has an urge to pet it, but he scolds himself for even _thinking _of touching the child. Declining the offered hand, Axel shifts farther away from the blond, flashing a cold glare towards his nightmare.

The blond lowers his arm, his movements almost seeming let down. He's silent and still, reminding Axel of a robot, one of those dead mechanical ones he sees on the television all the time. Will the kid go away now? Maybe he realizes he's tormenting the redhead, and he'll leave at once. Emerald eyes never blinking, the man hesitantly allows one free hand to rise up, shaking as it closes in on the still body.

All at once, the blond is shocked back to life, causing Axel to retreat his hand and let out a startled yelp. He stares with widening eyes as the creepy kid takes small, determined steps into the closet, closing the door behind him.

"Wh-What are you doing?" The redhead snaps, the closet wall poking hard against his spine. Darkness wraps around his eyes once more. He waits for something happen, unsure if fighting to escape the closet is a good idea. Shivering, he barely notes the air is cooling down, or maybe it's his body heat, and soon goosebumps appear all over his arms and legs.

_"Axel..."_ A sweet voice whispers in his ear, and out of nowhere, a body collapses in his lap. Startled, the man squirms around, attempting in vain to shove the light weight off, but realizes the kid is clinging to him. He can feel the blond's bony arms wrapped around his neck in an iron-lock. Slowly ceasing the useless actions, Axel stays completely still, only flinching when he feels the foreign touch of lips on his neck.

_"It's okay, Axel..."_ the child laughs calmly,_ "Don't be afraid... I'm here... Don't be afraid..."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Can this still be considered a late AkuRoku tribute? :I Welp, too bad. **

**Don't ask what this is, because I don't know. I thought it started getting lame when Roxas came in near the end. :U Don't kill me, please?**

**Du Riechst So Gut is German for "You Smell So Good", based off of the song which I raped the replay button off while writing this, "Du Riechst so Gut" by Rammstein. **


End file.
